


Road Work Ahead

by Cereal_Forks



Series: Death and the Entire Universe [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Allergies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, super background timkon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cereal_Forks/pseuds/Cereal_Forks
Summary: Dick is really trying to be a better brother to Tim. But a two-day road trip to Blüdhaven with two brothers from different dimensions goes very wrong within the first hour. Even ice cream turns deadly when it turns out that Dick isn't getting the hang of this as quickly as he thought he was.





	Road Work Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Here's that sequel I mentioned. Man, the vine titles for these stories really don't match the tone, but it's too late I've committed to my theme. Also, it's weird how often ice cream has turned out to be a relevant plot device in my stories, like, it's weird that I have four up and two are about ice cream.
> 
> Important knowledge for this bit: The Contagion storyline, or "the Clench" never happened in the Rebirth universe because Rebirth has never given me reason to believe that anything to do with No Man's Land happened (tbh, No Man's Land was stunningly inconsequential even right after it came out considering just how many issues was dedicated to it all across all the Bat titles going on at the time). Also, in between And They Were Roommates (Oh My God...) and this, Tim and co. moved to San Francisco because I think Damian relocated the Teen Titans to Boston? I can't remember, I just know he moved and I wanted Tim and his friends to have their own city and Damian left San Francisco available recently. Also, I have no idea what Tim's backstory is in Rebirth? So it's kind of a mess in this story too, the universe is a damn mess and that's canon.

It was quiet. Way too fucking quiet.

Dick took his car out to San Francisco to pick up Tim, because as much as he loved his bike, it was a lot of distance to cover, and they would both have need to throw things into the back. He figured it would be easier for them to talk if they were side-by-side too, but that wasn’t the way things went at all.

Because they were stuck in this car for two whole days, and it was dead quiet.

“Jesse’s Girl” was playing over the bluetooth, sure, and Dick wished he could say the song was lifting the mood and making things a little less quiet, but it really wasn’t. Tim had the side of his head pressed against the window, but his eyes were wide open and for the most part unfocused on the side of the road, his mouth was drawn in a long, tight line and Dick suspected he was pretending he wasn’t there. Dick himself was trying to keep from wishing that he had taken Tim up on his suggestion to let Kon fly him down to Blüdhaven if Dick insisted on him visiting for his reading break. And Dick did insist on that, because if he was going to be a better brother, he actually needed to spend time with said younger brother.

When he made the suggestion, he hadn’t realized it would be so awkward.

“How’s Conner and the rest of them?” Dick asked, just to say something.

“Fine,” Tim replied with a slight shrug.

“Awesome.”

And silence again.

“Come on, I haven’t seen you in a month, you must have something to tell me,” Dick said.

“Superhero stuff, college stuff.” Tim shrugged again.

If Dick wasn’t so busy driving, he thinks he would have started crying. “Was talking to you always like talking to a brick wall? Because I don’t think it was.”

“Conner could have given me a lift to Blüdhaven,” Tim said.

“Great, and then we could have sat in silence in my apartment,” Dick said.

“Well, I assumed you would have some fun family activities planned, but that works too,” Tim said.

“Come on, give me something to work with, how’s university? I never went so I wouldn’t know, give me anything,” Dick begged.

“It’s fine, boring, but I need the business degree,” Tim said.

“Why? You hate business, I think,” Dick said.

Tim shrugged and turned a little further away. “It’s just in case.”

“In case of what?”

Tim shrugged again.

“Is it something in the other timeline?”

Tim nodded. Dick had learned that in some ways, Tim was much better off in the old timeline, where he had friends he trusted with his life, a slowly recovering Gotham City, an identity all his own out of anyone’s shadow, and a brother who actually knew his middle name (it was Jackson, but Dick hadn’t known that a month ago). But in other ways, Tim was miserable back there. From what Dick had managed to pry from tight lips, the timeline rebooted about the same time Tim was recovering from a long period of loneliness and depression, and now he was back in that recovering phase after it had been put on hold for two lifetimes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick asked. “It’s totally fine if you don’t.”

“Remember when everyone thought Bruce had died, and you were Batman for a bit, and Damian was your Robin?” Tim asked, and Dick hadn’t honestly expected him to respond.

“Sort of, I remember it happened, but none of the details.” A lot of Dick’s memories were like that, actually, others contradicted themselves and altogether memory lane wasn’t a fun place to visit depending on what the memory was. It was a complicated way to be, but Tim helped when he was in a sharing mood.

“Well, when that happened, someone had to take over W.E., plan A was actually to get Hush on board, but he was actually putting a dent in B’s bank account with his careless spending, I didn’t think that was possible, but he was doing it, and there was a thing where Ra’s al Ghul made a power grab, so someone more trustworthy had to take over, and you were busy being Batman and taking care of Damian, so I had to do it.”

“How old were you?” Dick asked.

“Seventeen.” Tim was always seventeen. “Anyways, I had to take over the company, which was tough, because I was a seventeen year old high school dropout, Bruce had only adopted me maybe a year ago, and I was emancipated at the time too, no one’s child, which made people question why Bruce would list me as his heir at all rather than you or Damian, so I figured, just in case, I should have a business degree, to make the process easier if it ever happens again.”

“Tim, Bruce isn’t going to die anytime soon, have you seen the guy? He’s already survived just about everything there is to live through,” Dick said.

“I don’t think I’m listed as his heir in this timeline anyways, but contingencies you know?” Tim said.

“Why wouldn’t you be listed as his heir?”

“Things are different here Bruce doesn’t trust me like he used to.”

Tim might pride himself as the next World’s Greatest Detective, but Dick was a detective himself, and he could tell when his own brother was lying, no matter what timeline. 

“Tim, has Bruce adopted you in this timeline?”

“No,” Tim admitted.

“Have you talked to him about it?” Dick asked.

“As far as he’s concerned, I still have parents, alive, even if I can never see them,” Tim reminded.

“Your parents are alive? Since when?”

“They aren’t, actually, I checked the witness protection program, and they’re gone, no big scene, just wiped out completely, like they were never there, they got their new names, got in the car, and drove off the face of the earth as far as I can tell, so I guess I’m an orphan again.” Tim brought one leg up onto the car seat. Alfred would have a fit about shoes on the seat, but Dick didn’t care.

“Bruce would love to adopt you again, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m an adult now, and he’s my dad whether it’s official or not, sort of,” Tim said.

“Sort of?”

“The same way you’re my brother, sort of.”

Sort of meant supposed to be, but not. Dick was trying, and he guessed that was his hint to tell Bruce to start trying too.

“Well, this got kind of depressing,” Dick said.

“You said to talk about anything,” Tim said.

“Yeah, well now how about we talk about anything else? Literally anything, say the weirdest thing you can think of right now,” Dick suggested.

“Did you know we don’t own a blender? Cassie makes these smoothies every morning, but she makes Bart wear gloves and mash them in a bowl really fast because she says kitchen appliances are really expensive,” Tim said.

“That’s very weird,” Dick admitted.

“Right? I’m a billionaire, I could fill our apartment with smoothie shops if I wanted to,” Tim said.

“No, I mean the part where you make your speedster serve as a human blender, what the fuck is wrong with your friends?”

“Honestly, a lot, they’re wonderful but weird people, but Bart has a lot of fun with it, he always needs something to do, sometimes he likes to sneak in secret ingredients and then Cassie gives it to me because she says it’s gross.”

“Why would you drink that?”

“The Speedster Smoothie? It’s good.”

“But a human’s hands were in there.”

“He wears gloves.”

“That’s still so gross.”

“It really isn’t, it’s efficient.”

“No, absolutely not, it’s just gross,” Dick insisted.

“Your loss,” Tim shrugged.

“Now I want a smoothie,” Dick realized.

“Do you want me to call Bart? He could run alongside us,” Tim suggested.

“Was this all just a ploy to get your friends out here so you don’t have to hang out with me?”

“Of course not,” Tim said pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through the thing.

“I don’t believe you, put that thing away, you’re spending time with your brother.”

“You sound like a mom, and if you really do want a smoothie there’s a place twenty minutes away, or, as an alternative, there’s an ice cream shop next to a Burger King in ten minutes, and we could do lunch and desert.”

“You like fast food?”

“I like food, period, you used to think it was kind of gross, actually, but I’ll eat practically anything.”

“That isn’t food though, it’s fried cardboard covered in grease.”

“I think they serve salads.”

“Fine, whatever, this weekend’s about you, we can do fast food,” Dick decided with a roll of his eyes and Tim started punching the address into the GPS.

“Don’t act like you would rather have an ice cream than a smoothie,” Tim said.

“That isn’t the point, I’m complaining about the fast food, not the ice cream.”

“Ice cream isn’t healthy either,” Tim recalled.

“It fits into a food group, it counts as dairy,” Dick said.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Tim said. “And fast food can technically fit into a food group too.”

“No, it doesn’t, it’s nasty.”

“It does too, tell you what, I’ll order you the healthiest thing on the Burger King menu, and you pick the nastiest ice cream combo you can come up with, and you can decide which you would rather have me eat,” Tim suggested.

“It’s going to be the ice cream,” Dick promised.

“Not if I can find a salad.”

“Even a salad from that place can’t be healthy.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tim accepted the challenge.

Dick was standing in line musing ice cream flavors fifteen minutes later. The problem with Tim’s challenge however was that he really didn’t want to poison his little brother, but he also wanted to punish him for his choice of lunch. There was also the slight issue that he had no idea what flavours Tim liked.

That wasn’t true.

Tim liked sweet things. One time, Tim sat in the theatre of Wayne manor and just ate entire family sized bags of marshmallows until he finished the entire first season of Star Trek and the rest of the family felt sick just watching him. Yeah, Dick remembered that. Finally, something he remembered about his brother and he had to use it for evil and feed him the least-sweet ice cream flavours.

There was something about disliking nuts too, if Dick was remembering correctly. Or it could have been something about loving nuts. There was something about Tim and nuts and Dick couldn’t remember what, so he ended up getting a scoop of hazelnut anyways, if Tim loved it, so be it, he could say he was going easy on him. He paired it with black licorice, which Dick liked, because he wasn’t a fan of sweet things. Jason and Damian liked to freak out at him about it, which was kind of funny. Dick couldn’t remember Tim reacting though.

Maybe one of his little brothers had taste.

Tim was waiting for him in the car with two bags of fast food.

“Salads,” Tim proudly declared, offering Dick one of the bags. “And a diet coke.”

“That’s honestly disgusting, I hate diet coke,” Dick said.

“I know,” Tim said with a big grin.

“You’re a monster,” Dick said, but took a sip from the already dissolving cardboard straw anyways with a grimace.

“Which one of those ice creams are mine?” Tim asked.

“Two scoops,” Dick said, he had only gotten one scoop of black licorice for himself. Tim made a disgusted face.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who genuinely likes black licorice, you know that, right?” Tim said.

“None of my brothers have any taste,” Dick realized.

“Hey, I’ll eat it,” Tim promised, he took the ice cream in one hand and in the other, he drew a French fry from his paper bag.

“You said you were getting a salad,” Dick recalled.

“I have one of those too, calm down, I just need something to dilute this garbage you’re feeding me.”

“Right, you gave me a bag of soggy moldy lettuce but I’m the one who’s feeding you garbage.” Dick shook the plastic container of lettuce that had clearly been in the fridge for a while.

“It isn’t moldy.”

“I don’t want to eat it.”

“I don’t want to eat your nasty ice cream, but you said the week is my choice.” Tim took his French fry and dipped it in both scoops of ice cream before popping it into his mouth.

“Don’t drip ice cream all over my car,” Dick warned before taking a large bite that would make Damian scream out of his own ice cream cone and popping open his salad.

“Huh, this ice cream tastes really weird,” Tim observed.

“You have no taste,” Dick repeated.

“Not the licorice, the other one, what is this?”

“Hazelnut, I remember there’s something about you and nuts, but I couldn’t remember if it was that you loved them or you hated them, so I took the risk.”

Tim rolled down the window and dropped the ice cream out.

“Hey—”

“Dick, I need my backpack from the back seat, and I need you to drive me to the nearest hospital.”

“What?”

“The thing with me and tree nuts is I’m allergic, and I just consumed them, my epi-pen is in my backpack, and I need immediate medical attention.”

“You’re what?”

“Get my epi-pen!”

“I’m going!”

Dick panicked for a moment before quickly placing his own ice cream in the nearest cup holder before opening the door and climbing into the back seat.

“Which pocket is it in?” Dick asked, already opening the front of a million pockets.

“Just give me the entire backpack,” Tim ordered.

“Right, okay, where’s the nearest hospital?” Dick asked, passing Tim his backpack.

“Just punch hospital into the GPS,” Tim snapped before trying to calm himself back down, his leg gittered, but for the most part he was focusing on his breathing and not going into anaphylaxis, as if he had any power over that. Bats might be in better control of their bodies than most people, but allergies wasn’t the kind of thing that could be un-taught.

“Shit, right, I’m going, Dick said, Tim stabbed himself in the leg through the jeans, and just left the pen pressed in there as he tried to focus.

It was three minutes into the drive to the nearest emergency room that Tim started having trouble breathing. From the corner of his eye, Dick could see especially the skin around his throat looked red. Five minutes after that the vomiting started into the little paper Burger King bag. Dick did some things that only years of vigilante training prepared him to do in order to drive to the hospital within ten minutes. He physically manhandled Tim out of the car, the boy was breathing too poorly to put up much of a fight against him when Dick carried him into the hospital. He kicked open the door screaming for someone to do something Blood rushed in Dick’s ears when doctors and nurses tore Tim out of his arms and out of sight.

Dick blinked and he was sitting in the waiting room in an uncomfortable square chair. A woman and her son sat on the other side of the room, and an old man was asleep three seats to Dick’s right. He still felt profoundly alone until a nurse entered and crossed the room with a clipboard, stopping in front of him.

“Mr. Grayson, if we could just ask you a couple questions about what happened to your brother?” a nurse asked.

“Is he alright?” Dick asked.

“He’s going to be just fine,” she assured.

Thirty minutes later, Tim was going to be fine.

Dick collapsed back into the chair. He hadn’t noticed how long he had been sitting forwards.

“Can I see him?” Dick asked.

“He’s resting right now, but you’re allowed into the room right after I ask these questions, the nurse agreed, Dick nodded. “Alright, can you tell me again your name and relationship with the patient?

“Dick Grayson, Tim Drake is my brother, sort of.” Dick grimaced when he had to say that. “His foster father is my adoptive father, which is why we have different last names, so, yeah, sort of.”

“And this foster father is Bruce Wayne, correct?”

“That’s right, Bruce took me in when I was nine, but he didn’t adopt me officially until I was an adult, and he’s been taking care of Tim since his parents were in an… accident a while ago.” Another thing Dick didn’t know. What happened to Tim’s parents? They were gone, but how had they died? Why did they get taken in by the Witness Protection Program? Dick had no idea, but an accident would probably work.

“Perfect, and can you tell me how Tim’s emergency contact, Alfred Pennyworth is related to either of you?”

“He’s Bruce’s butler, but he’s like a grandfather to Tim and me and the rest of our siblings.”

“Alright then, and can you tell me how Tim got exposed to the hazelnuts?”

“He ate ice cream with hazelnuts in it.”

“And do you have any reason to believe Tim knew the ice cream had nuts in it?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“We’re just trying to get all the facts of what happened, we went over his medical records, and Tim is currently on anti-depressants, we need to know if there’s a chance he did this on purpose.”

“No! God, Tim’s been doing well lately.” He didn’t know he was on anti-depressants though. “He didn’t know.”

“So, was there no warning from the shop? No label?”

“No, the shop had it labeled clearly, it was actually my fault.” It was completely true, but still hard to say out loud. “I didn’t know he was allergic when I chose it.”

The nurse stared at him for a moment. “I’ll take it you aren’t very close with your brother, if you didn’t know?”

That was hard to hear. “Yes, we don’t spend as much time together as we probably should,” he admitted anyways.

“And if you aren’t close, what are you doing all the way out here? Last I saw on your Instagram, you still live in Blüdhaven.”

“We’ve been working on getting closer, he’s supposed to spend the week with me in Blüdhaven.”

“Next time find a bonding activity without nuts, okay?” the nurse suggested.

“Yeah, I figured that out.” Dick wondered if he would find himself minus one Instagram follower after all this was over, he wouldn’t be able to tell, but he wouldn’t be surprised. “Can I see my brother know?”

“He’s resting, but you’re allowed in the room so long as you don’t upset him.”

“We aren’t close, but we don’t dislike each other,” Dick said.

“Of course. Tim will be asleep right now, and he’s definitely going to be staying overnight, but family is allowed into the room.” The look on the nurse’s face implied that she wasn’t sure Dick qualified. Dick wasn’t sure himself.

Dick was sitting in an even more uncomfortable chair next to the pristine white bed holding Tim and all the tubes stuck in him. Tim was still all red and puffy, and his breathing rasped a little through the tubes, but his eyes opened a little bit.

“Dick?”

“Hey, Timmy, I’m here,” Dick cooed. Quickly, he jumped out of the chair to stand next to the bed.

“Did you call Conner?” Tim asked.

Dick felt his heart sink into his stomach. “No, sorry, I forgot,” Dick admitted. “A nurse called Alfred though, he’s listed as your emergency contact.”

“Shit, I’ve been meaning to fix that,” Tim muttered, and Dick felt his heart drop to his left knee. “Can you give me my phone? I’ll tell him.”

“I can do it,” Dick insisted.

“I’m awake I can do it myself.”

“No, the only thing you’re allowed to do is sleep, you almost died.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Dick’s heart plummeted and shrivelled up to fit inside a toenail.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered.

“No, it was an accident, I should have mentioned it before, but I thought it was the sort of thing you would know from my file.”

“It’s been a while since I read it.” And what did that say about Dick as an older brother? Hell, even as a person? He had read the files of Gotham’s Rogues almost religiously to the point where if someone asked him to recite the Riddler’s medical history, Dick could give every detail as if they were written on the inside of his eyelids. But he couldn’t remember reading one tiny line on his own brother’s file.

“Really, it’s alright, don’t get into that headspace where this is all your fault and woe is you or whatever, because I can see you getting there.”

“It isn’t fair that you can read me so well and I try to buy food and end up poisoning you.”

“I know.”

“I thought I was doing so well today too, we had a conversation that wasn’t totally depressing, and I remembered you love sweet foods when I was ordering your ice cream, but then I had to go fuck it all up.”

“I just said don’t start doing this, it was an accident, it’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine, I almost killed you.”

“And that’s fine too, now I’m only Duke away from surviving fratricide bingo.”

“That doesn’t help.” The worst part is, Dick could honestly imagine Tim having a bingo card tacked to his bedroom wall with all of their names on it. He can imagine Jason and Damian’s squares blacked out by red ink, Cassandra’s square with a shameful red dot pressed right on the centre. He can imagine Tim texting his boyfriend to stamp Dick’s square for the first time.

“You’re doing the guilt thing again,” Tim warned, pulling Dick out of his own head.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

“I just said it was fine, I’ll be free to go by tonight.”

“They said they want to keep you overnight, actually,” Dick recalled.

“I’m a bat,” Tim whispered, and then raised his voice again, “we heal at twice the speed of a normal person, trust me, we’ll be on the road to Blüdhaven again by the time it’s dark out.”

“You still want to go to Blüdhaven?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “An allergic reaction isn’t going to scare me off, Dick, back in the old timeline, I caught essentially the new plague twice, and the first time, I was patrolling again the same night, the second time, I didn’t even take the time off, I stayed on the job the whole night, a little anaphylaxis doesn’t scare me.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy, why would Batman let you do that?” Dick asked.

“Well, the first time was more of a sneaking out situation, and the second time my symptoms didn’t really start to kick in until mid-mission,” Tim recalled.

“What about me? Or Alfred? God, Tim, you need to take breaks.”

“Batman doesn’t, and everyone’s always praised me for being like him,” Tim pointed out. Maybe Tim needed to stamp his own square on the bingo card is he was genuinely considering Bruce to be a healthy role model.

“Batman is hardly a role model for healthy behaviour for anyone, and you were seventeen!” Dick protested.

“Actually, I was fifteen when that happened.”

“That’s even worse! Why wouldn’t anyone do anything?”

“Catwoman did, she found me passed out on a roof when patrolling while sick turned out to be a bad idea.”

“Great, so now Catwoman’s a better caretaker than I was.” He didn’t actually mean for that to come out as whiny and bitter as it does.

“You love Selina,” Tim said.

“She’s great, sure, but I wouldn’t exactly call her the nurturing type, and I was your brother, I’m still your brother, I should have done better than that,” Dick said.

“Dick, it was literally two lifetimes ago, and you were doing more good on the streets handling riots than you would have been watching me sleep,” Tim assured.

“I should have been doing more.”

“It’s a couple lifetimes too late for that, but it’s fine, you were a good brother.” Tim laughed a little. “Actually, Alfred played a kind of mean trick when you finally did find the cure where he let you think I was dead for a second, and you got there too late.”

“Alfred did what?”

“I had already been cured, so he was in a good mood,” Tim said. “You came running into the cave with your stupid rat-tail and he said there was nothing you could do for me he didn’t tell you it was because I was already healed.”

“That’s horrible.”

“The joke or the ponytail, because both were pretty awful.”

“All of it, the joke, the you almost dying, the me not doing anything to help,” Dick cried.

“I already said you were doing plenty.”

“Is there any point to this anecdote?” Dick asked.

“Shit, yeah, the point is: ever since that, getting sick isn’t such a big deal, because I’ve had it as bad as it gets,” Tim explained.

“But you didn’t get it from me, I didn’t hand you the plague in an ice cream cone,” Dick said.

“I think I would be more impressed than upset if you did that, actually, and I’m not bleeding out my eyes, so anything short of that, I consider a win,” Tim said.

“Bleeding out of your eyes?” Dick repeated.

“That’s the clench,” Tim shrugged, “I’m immune now, I guess the only immune person in the world since it didn’t happen here.”

“I don’t remember any of it, not even a little.”

“It didn’t happen, it’s fine, just like the hazelnut thing is fine, there’s no way you could know any of it.”

“But I could have! I could have read your file or talked to you literally ever before you went missing for an entire year,” Dick said.

“I said it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You don’t get to decide that all by yourself, I’m the one who almost died, and I say it’s fine.”

Dick sighed and sank back into the uncomfortable chair. “Do you ever miss him? Your Dick.”

“You are my Dick,” Tim said.

“No, I’m not, your Dick knew you were allergic to nuts and was there for you when you could have died, and he was better than I am.”

“Dick, stop it,” Tim said.

“Just tell me you wish it were him here instead?”

“Fine, yeah, I miss him. I miss the brother that invited me to spend the weekend in his apartment, and it always looked like he was in the middle of moving out because everything was kept all mixed together and what wasn’t was all over the floor, I miss the brother who hates sweet stuff and tries to convince the rest of us that black licorice is actually really good, I miss the brother who remembers we train surf, I miss the brother who thinks everything in the damn world is his fault when it really isn’t.”

“Tim—”

“No, Dick, I don’t miss you, because you’re right here, you’re trying, which is more than most people can say, I miss our relationship, but you’re here, so stop trying to shut me out,” Tim said.

Dick sighed and reached over to squeeze Tim’s wrist. “You’re better at this whole brother thing than I deserve, you know that, right?”

“You’re doing okay, considering you just poisoned me.”

“You said that was fine.”

“It is, but it still happened.”

“I’m still doing better than Jason and Damian.”

“That’s a low bar Mr. Acrobat.”

“I’m doing better than Bruce?”

“Even lower.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, or he’ll get even broodier than this.”

“Trust me I know.”

Dick laughed, he climbed out of the chair again to hug his brother properly, he could feel Tim rolling his eyes into his shoulder when he hugged back. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to know you sooner, or better.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that on the road, we’re losing daylight, and I’m sick of the hospital,” Tim said.

Dick laughed a little harder. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not breaking you out of here.”

“At least let me have my phone?” Tim asked.

“No, you’re going to sleep, and once we’re in the car you can sleep some more,” Dick decided.

“Ugh, you’re the worst, someone needs to tell Conner.”

“Hey, I’m doing better than Jason, Damian, and Bruce, you said so yourself, I’m hardly the worst.”

“Do you plan to let go of me? So, you can talk to the nurse?” Tim asked.

“In a minute, we’ve got time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I'm ever going to write anything more iconic than the idea of "fratricide bingo", I adore that line, it's my favourite. There's one more part in the works, but it's coming along much more slowly than the first two did, so it might take a while to get that out, but I'm interested in doing more than this initial trilogy, so there might be even more. There is always a need for more content for Dick and Tim being bros, but I'm not sure if I have any more ideas rn. There's definitely going to be three tho, so keep an eye out. This one is actually my favourite of the three, and I hope all of you enjoyed it too. Thanks for reading.


End file.
